Darkest Before the Dawn
by zodiacflame
Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, Sam is left with an injury that isn't the kind which can heal after a few days of rest. Its going to take a lot more than that, and Dean will be there for him every step of the way. Teenchesters, Major!Hurt!Sam, Protective!Dean I don't own Supernatural, it belongs to CW (although I wish I did!)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hope you enjoy this story, let me know if I should continue it **** It's my first time writing a supernatural fanfic, so please excuse me if the characters seem a bit off, I'm still trying to find my feet, so to speak XD As always, favourites, follows and reviews are much appreciated if you like the story, they let me know if it's going ok :) Oh and to the readers of my other story, I am working on a sequel; it should be up sometime in the near future ;) Well, that's it from me, hope you like the story!**

Chapter 1: Mistakes

Three hunters sat in a small motel room, its walls lined with tacky beige wallpaper and a stained carpet. Silence was draped across the room like a shroud, as the small family sat cleaning guns, preparing for the evening's hunt.

"Um…Dad…" Sam started, not quite sure how to word what he wanted to say.

"What?" came his father's gruff reply from the bed opposite. Dean looked anxiously between the pair; as if he was worried he may soon have to act as peacemaker between them, as he had many times before.

Sam took a deep, slow breath, before breaching a subject that couldn't be avoided. It was like the proverbial elephant in his and John's relationship, a subject that Sam had unsuccessfully tried to bring up many times before.

"It's- It's about college…" He began, slowly gaining in confidence. He couldn't stay silent any longer. "I've been offered a place by Stanford, and… I accepted."

John slowly put down his gun, his face hidden in shadows. Sam's heart sped up at the tension, fearful of his father s response. The silence was even worse than shouting; at least when John was shouting, Sam knew where he stood. But when it was silent, Sam had no idea what his father was thinking, and he hated not knowing. That was one of the reasons he drunk in knowledge greedily; he never wanted to be in a position in which he knew nothing.

After several minutes of silence, Dean decided to speak up. "Sammy…"

"No." His father interrupted, silencing his eldest son with a meaningful glare. Dean, as John knew he would, backed down without a fight.

"You aren't going to Stanford Sam. I won't allow it."

"You can't stop me!" Sam shouted, outraged. His father was always telling him what he could and couldn't do, and he was sick of it. He had never understood how Dean could just take the man's orders and say nothing. Did he not ever think that maybe their dad was wrong? That maybe he could actually be wrong for once? Was that really that difficult to imagine?

"I can and I will. You are not walking away from your family. We need you more than you think you need an education. How on earth will a degree from Stanford help you with hunting?"

"Did you ever stop to think maybe I don't want to be a hunter?" Sam yelled angrily.

"Sam…" Dean warned, knowing they were approaching a touchy subject; one which he knew would end with him being the one awkwardly trying to diffuse the tension.

"No Dean, I'm fed up of this. You always just agree with him, no questions asked. You'd probably shoot me if he told you to!" Sam shouted, but instantly regretted his words as his face filled with colour. "Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"Yes you did." Dean replied coldly. After all he had done for the his little brother, how could Sam even imagine that he'd ever hurt him? There was nothing Dean would place before his baby brother, not even their dad. Heck, he'd basically raised the kid! "I can't believe…" Dean growled, but was once again silenced by his father interrupting him.

"It doesn't matter. You're not going, that's final. How are we meant to keep you out of trouble if you're not with us? What if your next mistake ends with someone from that college dying?" John stated coldly, bluntly.

"Next-Next mistake?" Sam spluttered, infuriated. "What do you mean next mistake? There wasn't a last one!"

John seemed to falter slightly, as if questioning what he had just said, before strengthening his resolve. If hurting his son's feelings was what it took to make him stay, then so be it. "Yes, your next mistake. I have no doubt that you'll make one. Whether it's tomorrow, or in a year's time, it doesn't matter, but it will happen. It'll get someone killed, someone who would've lived if you just stayed with Dean and me!"

Even Dean was shocked at his father's words. He knew John wanted the kid to stay, but he had gone way too far. He was about to speak up, but was beaten to it by Sam.

"Is that what you think?" Sam asked quietly, the fight completely gone from him. Instead, his face was filled with sorrow, his puppy eyes almost pleading. Dean's heart broke at the sight of it. Yep, his dad had definitely gone way too far, and Dean was well and truly pissed.

"I... I've tried to be the son you wanted, to be more like Dean. But it just isn't me! Every day in training I try my best and yet it still isn't good enough, you still think I'll get someone hurt. I just can't take it anymore." Sam mumbled, his eyes glued to the ground as if he was scared to look at his family.

"Ah Sammy…" Dean started, taking a step towards his brother to comfort him. His heart shattered into even smaller pieces when his brother flinched.

"I should… I should go…" Sam whispered, stumbling backwards in a bid towards the door.

"Samuel. Stop right there." John said. He would not just stand there and let his son leave, not like this.

"Yes sir." Sam gave up any hopes of escape. If he couldn't leave, then he'd have to prove to his father that he wasn't a mistake. He'd try even harder than before to be the perfect son. If that meant no arguments and being the soldier John wanted, then so be it.

"I'm going to get some more rock salt. You better still be here when I get back. "John said coldly, before leaving the room. Sam turned away from his brother and slumped down onto the motel bed.

"Sammy," Dean started tentatively," He didn't mean it, he was just scared…"

Sam laughed humourlessly. "Dad- scared? No, he was right: I'm just a mistake waiting to happen."

"No you're not Sam! He just-"

"Dean, save it. I'm tired, I just want to sleep- please?" He pleaded quietly with a weak smile, before closing his eyes, making it evident that the conversation was over. But that didn't stop Dean from worrying about his baby brother.

SPN-

Sam pulled his thick jacket tighter around himself, trying to block out the cold winter air. It was seven in the evening, and it was time for the hunt to start. The first flakes of snow were beginning to drift down from the dark night's sky, the only light in the derelict room coming from the bright orb that hung in the inky blackness, surrounded by thousands of small lights. Frost had already covered the ground, giving the world a tint of white, a slight glow. It made the graveyard seem pure; ironic considering they were hunting a ghost. No doubt the frozen ground was making the digging difficult for Dean and John, and yet they showed no sign of complaint. They knew what needed to be done and they did it. No moaning, no whining, just silence as the two men worked, sweat glistening on their brows despite the briskness of the air. Sam looked on sadly from his spot in the abandoned building above. _Why can't I be more like them? _He thought miserably_. Why am I so different?_ He hadn't dared to say anything else about Stanford; the idea of going there had been firmly pushed aside. All that was left to do now was to let the college know he had changed his mind, that he wouldn't be coming after all. The thought pained him, but he couldn't risk getting someone hurt just so that he could have a couple years away from a job that he'd get dragged back into anyway. He might as well keep up the training and maybe one day he wouldn't be such a burden.

His father's earlier words had hurt him more than he was ever willing to let on. If only he could be more like Dean, maybe his father would like him more. Maybe he wouldn't see Sam as a mistake.

He pulled the gun closer to his body as his dad and Dean continued to dig up the grave below of the spirit that was supposedly murdering teenagers. Sam had been told to go to the second floor on the building that overlooked the graveyard, to keep watch for the spirit and warn his family if it appeared. It was unlikely that it would just stand by and watch its remains burn. But surprisingly, nothing happened as John threw a lighter onto the salted corpse, making it go up in flames. Sam watched on as Dean made his way into the building to find him. Instead of just standing uselessly waiting for his brother to find him, Sam began to walk towards the door before freezing suddenly. He had a bad feeling, which was justified when he felt the air get significantly colder. Sam panicked briefly, realising that the ghost was in the room with him, but his hunter instincts quickly kicked in as he raised his rock salt-filled gun. He almost shouted out to warn his brother, but thought better of it, believing that it would just make him look weak.

He saw the spirit flicker into view a few feet from where he was standing, its appearance shocking him. It was a boy, no older than himself, covered in scars and ugly blue bruises. One scar was particularly noticeable; it stretched across the spirit's face diagonally from his forehead to his chin. Sam almost felt pity for the spirit. As always, he'd been the one who'd had to do the research, and he couldn't help but relate to the spirit. The ghost was of a 16 year old teen, Brian Hendrick, who'd accidently gotten his younger brother hurt. He wasn't watching him when he was playing around a road, and before Brian knew it, a car had slammed into his baby brother's small form. The little boy survived with just a few broken bones, but their dad never forgave Brian. He brutally abused Brian, told him that it was his fault, that he was worthless; a mistake. He had twisted the poor teen's mind to the point where Brian actually felt he _deserved_ punishing. He died 2 years after his brother's accident, when his dad had one too many to drink and beat Brian to death. With a story like that, it was no wonder the teen's spirit had lingered on as a ghost, punishing those who felt they were a disappointment to their parents. Because of him, four teenagers had been murdered, and as sorry as Sam felt for the kid, it was time to put him to rest. He deserved peace after what had happened to him. Sam felt he kind of understood what it was like to not feel wanted, to feel like a disappointment. But Sam knew he had it nowhere near as bad as this kid had, so he thought himself lucky. It was cases like this that reminded him not all monsters were supernatural, that sometimes the ones that hurt you the most were the ones who were meant to care for you.

Sam was shaken out of his thoughts when the spirit materialised in front of him, but he paused for one fatal moment, feeling pity towards the twisted soul that stood before him. That minute pause was all it took. In seconds he felt himself flying through the air.

Dean walked into the room just in time to realise they'd burned the wrong corpse, and to see Sam flung out of the window and towards the pavement waiting below.

"Sammy!" He screamed as his baby brother disappeared from sight.


	2. Chapter 2: Aftermath

Chapter 2:

Dean wasn't even aware of flying down the stairs. He didn't notice his heart thumping as if it would break out of his chest at any minute. The only thought going through his head was _Oh god, please don't die Sammy, please don't die! _His mind was almost screaming it, repeating it like a mantra, as if saying it over and over would make it come true. Dean ran out into the cold night, and saw his brother lying limp on the frozen ground. John was already at the boy's side, shock evident on his face, but Dean ignored it. He sprinted over to his baby brother, helpless to do anything but look on as his father checked Sam's pulse. Dean fidgeted nervously as he waited for his dad to say something, anything.

"He's alive." John breathed with relief, but it was quickly replaced with fear when he saw how strange both of his son's ankles looked. Something was definitely broken, and his hip was already swelling. John had seen the way he landed on his feet, so frankly wasn't surprised. Didn't mean he was happy about it though, it would be absolute agony for Sam when he woke up. A panicked thought flitted across John's mind just before he was about to lift the boy up- What if he'd broken his spine? A fall like that definitely had the potential. Dean must have realised this too as his face had turned as pale as the snow that was steadily building up on the ground around them.

"Dean, call an ambulance." John ordered with a lack of emotion, despite it being so hard for him to stay calm at a time like this. But he had to, for Dean's sake.

Dean didn't move. He just stood there looking blankly at his little brother's unconscious body, no doubt running through various scenarios in his head, imagining what the future could hold for Sam.

"Dean!" John ordered again, louder this time. Dean flinched, but it seemed to shake him out of the shock he was slipping into. He fumbled in his pocket for the phone, and quickly punched in the digits for an ambulance. John, however, didn't hear a word of what was exchanged between his son and the operator as he tried to check Sam's injuries. From what he could tell, his ankles were both definitely broken, and his hip was possibly fractured. He had substantial bruising, but John didn't think any of the injuries were life threatening- a rare bit of luck. But what with it being as cold as it was, Sammy could develop hypothermia, which would definitely not make things any easier. Shrugging off his own jacket, he covered his lanky son in it as best as he could. It wasn't until then that he realised how tall his 18 year old son actually was; possibly even taller than himself.

"How did I miss that?" he murmured quietly to himself with sorrow. When had he stopped noticing his son and started seeing a soldier in his place?

"Dad, they're almost here, I can hear the sirens," Dean said shakily, interrupting his father's train of thought. John realised that he too could hear the wailing of the sirens, and released a trembling sigh of relief. At least Sammy had a chance.

-SPN-

Dean sat folded over on a chair in the waiting room of the ER. His head rested in his hands, his eyes blocked from view but the sobs he was trying to hide were given away by the tears that dripped steadily through the gaps in his fingers. He had been sitting like that pretty much since the moment they'd arrived, unwilling to face his father and admit that he'd messed up. If only he'd been faster getting to Sam at the graveyard, maybe the spirit wouldn't have hurt him. Instead of sitting in a hospital, the three men would be in the Impala, where they belonged, on the way to the next hunt, as it should be. But the freaking spirit had to mess everything up, and now his brother's fate was uncertain. John had disappeared soon after the doctor had carted off Sam to the operating room. No doubt he'd gone to burn the real corpse of the spirit, which needed doing, but Dean wished that just for once John would put his boys before the hunt. There were plenty of hunters John could've called to finish the job, but Dean had a feeling John had disappeared to get some sort of revenge on the thing that had landed his youngest in the hospital. He was slightly jealous, wishing he too could make the spirit pay for what it had done, but someone had to be there for Sammy, and it obviously wasn't going to be John.

Dean rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, as if trying to squeeze out the images that were flicking through his head. Of Sam falling, of him lying crumpled on the floor, legs twisted and pain etched onto his features. It didn't help one bit. He'd always been able to look after Sam before; he'd never experienced such a feeling of helplessness. Now here he was, with no idea if his brother was even alive_. Oh god…_ he thought, panic striking his heart. _He couldn't be… could he? Surely they would've said something if… if…._

Dean wasn't given any longer to dwell on it, as a voice suddenly called out: "Family of Samuel Winchester?"

He leapt out of his seat as if he'd been kicked, before finding his voice, saying "Me.-I'm- he's my brother." Standing in front of him was a middle-aged man with greying hair and frown lines, dressed smartly in a suit and holding a clipboard, with what was most likely Sam's medical notes.

"I'm Dr Turner. If you'd like to follow me…?" The doctor asked.

"Dean."

"If you'd like to follow me, Dean, I'll take you somewhere we can discuss your brother's condition." The doctor said, starting to walk towards a small room a short distance from the waiting area. Dean followed quickly. The sooner he knew what was wrong, the better.

The consultation room itself was very plain. Its yellow walls were dotted with posters about various illnesses, and three blue chairs were placed around a small coffee table in the centre of the room. Dean took the seat opposite where the doctor was now sitting, keen to find out how his brother was doing.

"Now Dean, your brother's condition is currently stable, and we're hopeful that it should stay that way, with a bit of luck." Dean grimaced slightly at that; Winchesters had a hell of a lot less than their fair share of luck, so he wasn't counting on it now.

"Upon his arrival at the hospital, we immediately took him through to x-ray and then surgery. As the paramedics suspected, both of his ankles are badly broken, as is his hip and his shoulder is sprained. I can only assume that your brother landed feet first, hence his injuries. Although it may not seem it, he was lucky. If he'd landed on his side he could have suffered severe internal bleeding, and landing on his head would have caused extreme brain damage, spine damage and would almost certainly be fatal." The doctor paused, looking grim, before continuing. "Now as I say, we took him to surgery and we were able to reposition his left ankle, but I'm afraid to say Samuel's-"

"Sam's." Dean interrupted out of habit, knowing his brother hated the name 'Samuel'.

The doctor looked slightly flustered, but carried on nonetheless. "Sorry-Sam's- right ankle is completely shattered. We have done all we can to piece it back together, but there is a risk of gangrene setting in, which would result in us having to amputate the foot to stop it spreading to the rest of the body. Either way, Sam's going to need a lot of physiotherapy and support to get back to the condition he was in before his fall."

Dean felt rather overwhelmed- and who could blame him? His brother could lose a foot! Any hope he'd had before of a few weeks in hospital recovering and then hitting the road again had completely disappeared. His brother was faced with a ton of pain and gruelling physiotherapy, and even then he may never be able to use his ankle properly again. _No_, Dean thought, _I have to stay positive. For Sammy._

"When can I see him?" Dean asked gruffly, his voice rough with unshed tears. What he wouldn't give for his father to be there…

"Well, Sam should be out of recovery and in a room by now, so if you just wait here and give me a moment to check on the system, I should be able to take you to see him very soon." Dr Turner replied, standing and walking towards the door.

"Thanks Doc," Dean said gratefully, as he heard the door click close. Finally alone, he let it all out, knowing that he soon wouldn't be able to. He had to be strong, for Sam's sake. Tears streamed down his face, but even then he felt relieved. Given the fall, Sam could have died, or have damaged his brain, so at least he could be thankful that when Sam woke up, it would be _his_ Sam.

Upon hearing footsteps approaching the room, Dean quickly wiped the tears from his eyes and sniffed, trying to stop his running nose.

"If you'd like to follow me, Dean, I'll take you to see your brother. " The doctor said from the doorway with a smile. Dean rose to his feet and swayed slightly, but steadied himself and a determined expression fixed itself on his face. Taking long strides, he followed the doctor along winding corridors, amazed at how large the hospital was. _It would be easy to get lost in a place like this,_ he thought as he walked.

After passing various rooms and wards, the pair eventually reached a room which was set slightly away from the other rooms; although Dean was relieved to notice they weren't in intensive care. Before entering the room, the doctor spun on his heel to face the 22 year old that was behind him. He was still shocked that the boys' father wasn't there, but kept his confusion to himself.

"Now, I have to tell you that you may find your brother's current state slightly shocking. He's on a ventilator to aid his breathing, but that will be taken out when he wakes up, which should hopefully be soon. He also had various tubes and wires on him to administer pain medication and antibiotics and to monitor his health. Sam also is in a cast from both his ankles to his hip, which will help all of the fractures heal. We've also had to set up a catheter whilst he's asleep, but once again, we'll remove that when he wakes up."

Dean grimaced slightly in sympathy for his baby brother. The doctor pushed the door open and gestured for Dean to enter. Even though Dr Turner had warned him of how Sam looked, Dean still felt slightly shocked. He'd never want to see his brother like this. He was so pale and still that he could be mistaken for dead. Dean took a shaky step forwards, before tossing aside his fears and dragging a nearby chair over to his baby brother's head. He gently stroked Sam's hair out of his eyes and murmured comfortingly to his brother. Sammy instinctively leaned into Dean's touch, and Dean smiled softly, as a lone tear escaped his control and rolled slowly down his face.

Dr Turner smiled at the sight before him, and then quietly exited the room. His patient was in safe hands.

**A/N: Happy new year! Thank you so much for all of the follows, favourites and reviews- please keep them coming! Sorry it took me so long to update, what with Christmas and revising for my AS mocks I haven't had a chance to write, and it may be a few weeks until the next update because my mocks are starting in a few days. But please stick with me! Poor Sammy's in a bad way, and John's left Dean to pick up the pieces- what will happen when Sam wakes up? All will be revealed in the next update ;) See you next time!**


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